


Toddles and Love

by ImmortalVal



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Jealous Sherlock, John and greg are best bros, Kid Sherlock, Kidfic, Multi, Possessive Sherlock, Teacher John, it's more of a puppylove thing where sherlock is convinced john is his, little moriarty tries to get sherlock jealous, nothing really past that, sooo little kindergarten au with puppylove
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:13:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalVal/pseuds/ImmortalVal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John Watson decided to be a teacher for 6 year olds, he didn't think that it'd be that difficult. They're only children, for christ sake! Then again, he didn't really think that one of them would develop a crush on him. A weird, cute, maybe-a-bit-too-much kind of crush. </p><p>He should really stop it, what with all the teasing he gets from the other staff members, and the strange emails from concerned guardians. </p><p>But, he's tried to stop it, you see. And he learned that you really can't win when it comes to a Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha, I love kidfics. They're adorable. 
> 
> I am now making one. This is terrible. This is a sort of short prologue.
> 
> Uhhh, this was based on Zasha/Bulecelup's adorable AU. Except it's kindergarten and not pre-school.   
> Drawing here: [[x](http://bulecelup.tumblr.com/post/87046752886/pre-school-teacher-john-watson-au-kenapa)]

Of course, things never went how John thought they'd go. He just doesn't have that kind of luck. He expected clingy little children, like right now, with one hugging his leg so tightly that it's actually started to feel numb now. What he didn't expect out of this situation is that, along with the clinging to his leg, the child is waving a small ring at him. It looks  _real_ , is the problem. The diamond of the blasted little ring looks  _real_ ,  _expensive_ , and oh-no if it gets lost he really doesn't want to be blamed for this. No, the ring is just one of his problems along with his now-numb leg. The other problem is what the child is spouting out of his mouth. 

"I found rings for us! Which means we must get married, and you will be my wife soon!" 

Because no, he didn't agree to this. He doesn't want to be a wife to anyone, nor does he really want to get married. This is a five year old, a really smart ( too smart for his own good, honestly ), and awkward little five year old. Who has a crush on John. Que the long string of curses to bad luck and complicated situations. How do you explain to a little kid that, _no, I really don't want to be your wife, and you are not old enough for this_? 

Well, wait. He has tried to explain this. What did he get? Emails upon emails from a certain guardian, stating that, even though this child is smart, he still won't accept certain things. Which is how John learned that 1) The Holmes' are very difficult people, and 2) Sherlock will never accept any sort of rejection from John. 

All he can really do with the clinging-to-leg-with-a-ring situation is smile, pat the mess of curls, and take the ring. Sherlock stops with his blabbing, but his arms are still around John's leg, and he is now staring at John with such expecting, and comically large puppy dog eyes that it  _physically hurts_. John just sucks it up, puts the ring on, and smiles again. The ring is a bit too small on him, so now his finger is turning a worrying pale white. 

See, John really never signed up for this. 


	2. Mr. Watson's Class of Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month into school, and John gets a new student. A Sherlock Holmes if he's correct. 
> 
> This leads to many things. 
> 
> Most of them are interestingly... Terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First actual chapter, woohoo.
> 
> So yeah, goes back to like he first month of school with John's first time as a teacher. Sherlock is the new student, and... Shit.
> 
> It's short, sorry.

**_Chapter One_** :

_ Mr. Watson's Class of Monsters _

 

* * *

 

**[[Third POV]]**

 

The past month for John has been busy. It's been filled with glue, macaroni, finger paintings, boogers, and everything else that would make up six year olds. In all, the month has been messy, sticky, and overall loud. Then again, he expected this when becoming a kindergarten teacher, so he can't complain. He has no right to complain anyways. Molly Hooper ( the teacher next door ) has it a whole lot worse. Her class is filled with horrifying little goblins that you can't help but feel bad, yet thankful that your class isn't like that all too much.

Still, his students can have those days.

Like today. The kids are going  _crazy_  over the new student. Because, wow! They have a new playmate to cause chaos with now! Isn't that a joy for everyone? The worst part is that the new student has such a unique name that he's already being teased about it. Sherlock Holmes. How odd sounding. Then again, his brother's name is Mycroft Holmes, so you can't really expect much.

So, it's extra loud today, extra confusing, and now John has to figure out what table to seat Sherlock at and how to explain everything to him. Sherlock is, John found out, the youngest in the class. A five year old. While everyone else is six, six and-a-half, or going to seven. He's also probably the tallest. Coming to John's waist, while most of the other students are one or more inches lower than John's hip.

Sherlock stands out. That's the first thing John really notices. Not including the height of the lad, Sherlock very much stands out in the crowd of rowdy six year olds. Well, he's wearing a tiny little suit, which is very posh looking, and he's only five, so it looks a bit weird. He looks very 'rich', with his suit, and tiny oxfords, and very messy brown curls. While all the other kids are wearing bright colored shirts and shorts, which most of them are stained and have a faded little kids character on there.

So, yeah. While every student in his class actually looks like a child, Sherlock stands out with his little adult kind of look. It's weird seeing a kid wear a suit, and not complain about it. Then again, he's heard that the Holmes' are an odd bunch, so you have to expect the least from them.

And of course, just like everything else, the students are very impressed, intrigued, and interested in Sherlock. Somehow, some way, Sherlock is babbling about all of their lives, like he knew them for years even though in reality he's been here for less than an hour. Honestly, it's quite impressive, how a five year old knows all this.

But then it goes down hill. It starts with Sherlock talking about Sally Donovan's life. First her family, to her favorite stuffed animal, then to her crush. It was probably a very stupid idea to bring up her crush, or to bring up anyone's crush for that matter, because usually it's a secret right? Plus Sally is a very violent girl, and she's known for her colorful way with words.

So, here Sherlock is five minutes later. His nose bleeding, his head in John's lap, Sally fuming in a corner, and John cradling his head in one hand, and Sherlock's in the other. Because now he has a headache, and really? Why did Sally have to be so violent, and why was Sherlock such a twat in the first hour of his time here?

His class was really full of monsters in disguise, and no one can convince John otherwise. Sherlock isn't that good of an addition for the class if you want to make it **better.** And John's arm and hand are really starting to cramp, he's already suggested the clinic, but Sherlock's only response was a whine and a shake of the head which caused more blood to fly everywhere. Which is terrible because the box of tissues just ran out, and there hasn't been a restock in the paper towels.

"Mr. Watson! Peter's eating a tablet! I was trying to wash my hands and he took it from me!"

Oh yes, this is quite excellent. He moves to get up, and Sherlock whines once again ( like a god damned puppy ), then suddenly there is a crushing feeling on his arm. Sherlock has his hands on his bicep, squeezing it incredibly tight, and now it's turning pale, and numb, and why is a five year old so fucking strong? His arm is numb,

Peter is choking in the background, Sally is still sulking in a corner, and Sherlock won't let him go.

Gods, help John Watson.


	3. Target to the Holmes'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Greg bond over their Holmes problem. John is now a princess?
> 
> Wasn't he just a wife before? 
> 
> Wait, he's both?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahaha, will this be updated daily? No, sorry. Not good at that. Maybe every other day or twice a week? I don't know.
> 
> Yes, have fun reading.

_**Chapter Two:** _

_Target To The Holmes'_

 

* * *

 

**[[Third POV]]**

 

It's been about a couple of weeks since Sherlock joined his class. He got a few emails from the older brother Holmes, talking about things like Sherlock's ticks, moods, and his obvious disliking of other human beings. It explained, in five large paragraphs, that Sherlock is not sociable, does not think before anything that he says/does, and knows nothing of what is called 'human nature'.

With how many emails - four if he is correct - repeating this, you'd expect all of that. You'd expect a rebellious five year old who ignores the teacher, (un)intentionally makes fun of fellow classmates, and chooses to play all on his lonesome. Yes, these things are what you expect when you're told that; _yes indeed this is how this child is going to act like_.

Well, pardon his language, but he'd call that a bunch of... B.S. Because no, Sherlock is not that rebellious, nor does he ignore and dislike the teacher. No, complete opposite in fact. He seems so interested in John that it's uncomfortable. It all started with John complementing Sherlock on his 'deduction skills' and Sherlock claiming that no other adult ever liked it/him. Now, he follows the poor teacher around, clings to him, literally hisses at other people if they _dare to venture too close to his wife and him_. It's a pain, really. An utter pain, because not only did Sherlock develop a big and terrible interest (crush) on John, he also managed to bring in actual items as 'courting gifts'. Just a few days ago Sherlock walked in with a big box of very expensive chocolates from France (France! France of all places!), and gave it to John like it was nothing special indeed.

He even said these words, and quote: "It's only normal for a husband to shower his wife with the bestest of gifts."

Oh yes, he is now considered to be the wife of a posh five year old little boy. John Watson sure is living the fucking dream.

With the realization that, no, the emails are all lies, and that you cannot trust anyone else in the world, John Hamish Watson sits in a (crappy) local pub with his dear mate Greg Lestrade. John nursing the cheapest, but strongest ale he could get. And Lestrade holding a shot of the strongest whiskey in between his fingers. The two males call themselves the 'Targets to the Holmes'.

Greg and John were good friends before, but now after learning that John wasn't the only one with a Holmes problem, they'd become the best of mates. Greg may be the only being on the world that does not make fun of John for his Sherlock-Holmes problem. Though, out of the two of them Greg probably has it a bit better. Or not, if you really want to weigh out the pros and cons.

At least his pursuer is not five-fucking-years-old, nor is his pursuer so set on claiming Greg as his wife. Granted, his pursuer is the bloody british government and can do, get, have anything he wants. Which sounds very threatening, and even though Lestrade is an Inspector Detective at the New Scotland Yard there is only so much that his title could get him.

So, today, the two men nurse their alcohol, and talk about what gifts they got that week, seeing who got the most expensive and most overdone. John wins, of course, thanks to the blasted chocolates from fucking France, and Greg comes in second place with an actual wine opener from Italy. If Greg got _actual wine_ then maybe he would've won this time. Too bad it was just the opener.

"So," Greg starts with the tip of his head and down goes the whiskey, "Chocolates from France, huh?"

John can only sigh, rub his forehead, and nod. "Yes, yes, from France. No, don't ask if you can bloody well have any because I am saving them for when I want to impress a lady... Or something."

"Or something. You said it, mate. You know, I'm too afraid to actually find anyone? Mycroft could probably make them vanish in thin air, and I'd be the one to blame." The shot glass hits the table and it's refilled in the matter of seconds. "I can't deal with that, so I'm playing it safe. Ignore the Holmes, but don't make him angry at the same time."

The shot glass is tilted towards John, a raised eyebrow with a typical scorn on Greg's facial features. The whiskey disappears quickly.

John laughs bitterly, "The british government, though? I'm afraid of what that'd have Sherlock to be in a few years time." John admits as he takes tentative sips of ale, feeling the burn in his throat. "If he somehow manages to gain more power than his brother then you may as well ship me off to Canada five years ahead of time." The teacher gives a disbelieving look as he shakes his head when Greg gives him an agreeing nod.

"Bring me with you, huh? I don't want to be left here to deal with the both of them. I'm sure Sherlock would torture me until I gave up your whereabouts. Then again, it wouldn't really take long to get it out of me. Revenge is bitter."

John snorts at Greg with the roll of his eyes. "I'll be sure to take you with me then."

And that was the end of their Saturday night. Lestrade off to get ready for work the next day, and John getting ready to grade crude drawings, messy macaroni art, and stories with terrible hand writing as well as grammar. Because life as a kindergarten teacher is everything compared to working with the Yard. Although, they're both as exciting. In their own ways. While the Yard chases down criminals, John chases down wild booger infested children. Yes, exactly the same, just very different.

He could really use another glass of ale right now.

 

* * *

 

 

It's Monday morning, students are slowly streaming into the room, and John is ready to greet them all, as well as take attendance. He counts down as the number of students to check off slowly lowers, until finally there is only one left. One Sherlock Holmes. Of course, he feels a bit guilty when a wave of relief washes over him, but what else can you really do? John brings down the pencil, just about ready to check Sherlock off as absent, when...

Absolutely nothing happens. This is the point where the student flies in, yells that they are here, and then waddles off to a table. No, there is no big scene. Sherlock truly isn't here. Christmas must have come early then. John smiles as he checks him out as absent, sending off a pair of students to bring the folder to the office.

Time goes by slowly but surely, John goes through his plans for the day. Starting with some basic finger painting, going to building the weirdest things with the colorful foam building blocks. Hours tick by slowly, until finally, it's four hours into school, and the intercom in the room crackles to life as the voice of one of the (mean) office workers comes through.

"Mr. Watson?"

He makes sure to pause a while before finally answering, "Yes...?"

"Could you send a pair of students down? We have... Something for you."

That sounded suspiciously ominous and evil. But it's school, so it can't be that bad. John chooses the two most mature students and quickly sends them down. "Yes, yes, I'm sending them now."

"Thank you."

Then a second of silence is spread out through the classroom, until finally one child giggles, which lead to more giggles, which then kicks off the class once again.

The students come back five minutes later. Instead of coming with papers, a package, or anything else, they come back with a +1 addition to the group. Yes, one Sherlock Holmes. You can never really get what you want, so why does John always think things will finally go his way?

They won't, and it's better to accept that now. He probably has to take some action now.

John sighs as he gets up from the floor. He scurries off to get some golden star stickers for the two students he sent off. He plucks off two from the wax paper and places them neatly on their shirts. They smile and run off to show off their star. Now time for the inevitable. John slowly turns to face Sherlock, the teacher's smile stretched unnecessarily wide. "Hello Sherlock." He greets tightly.

"Hello," Is the response before Sherlock rushes off to go and join the others. Which is a big surprise because John was honestly expecting a bigger greeting that involved gifts and bone crushing hugs.

So, he is wary the whole day, carefully eyeing Sherlock who was sitting at a table, hunched over something as he scribbled whatever.

John spends his time playing with little Jim Moriarty and some other children. Jim playing a dragon, Billy playing a Knight, Michael playing a King, and finally John. Who is playing a princess who is stuck with the dragon.

He does his best to smile and act like he's having fun as the three fight against each other for him. Jim actually climbing all over John, yelling something about treasure and his, and to John this whole thing was very tiresome and he really didn't want to be a princess anymore.

Jim ends up winning with John as his prize, so he decides to show it off like a new toy. He drags the poor teacher around the whole class, yelling in triumph, clearly oblivious to the fuming Sherlock just a few yards away.

Of course, John isn't as oblivious. He clearly sees Sherlock, who looks like he might literally explode. Or just snap the pen he is gripping so tightly in his hand. John is waiting for a fight between the two, dread shadowing over him at the realization that two tiny children might really fight over him.

The fight does not come. Instead, Sherlock turns around and scribbles something down so fast you'd probably miss the whole thing in a blink.

Jim is just about ready to gloat to Philip Anderson when Sherlock intercepts them. The piece of paper in hand. The five year old clears his throat and glares down at Jim.

"Yes, hello there, Moriarty." Sherlock greets with such hatred that you can _feel_ the venom dripping off of the words.

Jim does not pay attention to the cold daggers that Sherlock is sending him. "Hello, Sherlock!"

"May I ask as to what you are doing with _my_ wife?" Sherlock says between grit teeth.

Oh yes, now it begins.

"Your wife? I don't see you two wearing any rings!" Jim huffs, squeezing John's hand even tighter, bringing the poor teacher ever so closer. "Plus he's _my_ princess! I won him fair and square!"

Gods help him.

"I still have to buy the rings! Plus, I have the marriage certificate right here!" Sherlock shoves the piece of paper at Jim's face.

So that's what he was making.

John dares a glance at the paper. It's all done in crayon and blue ink, it's very thought out, honestly, and it has both John's and Sherlock's name on it. Of course, it doesn't say John Watson. No, that'd be asking for too much. Instead it says John Holmes/John Watson-Holmes.

And before anyone could bat an eyelash, the piece of paper is ripped into two and thrown carelessly away.

"I'm a dragon, I can burn you, Sherlock Holmes. Dragons are better and more powerful than anything you could be!"

Then they're marching off, John being tugged away by Jim, Sherlock gaping at them, and John feeling so terrible about everything that he wishes he could just crawl off into a corner and die.

None of this was ever mentioned on the job description.


	4. Say Cheese!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock brings a camera to class, somehow, someway, he was able to bring a professional looking camera with him into a class full of clumsy six year olds. 
> 
> He really only takes pictures of one thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yas, hillo, I have a new chapter. Uhh, I was bored.  
> I also drew some pictures to go along, not that good, it took me about 10 minutes each?  
> Tell me if I should continue with the pics? 
> 
> Btw my Tumblr is ThatOneAleks if anyone is interested.
> 
> Sorry the chapter is short. Only 1,000 or so words, but eh.

_**Chapter Three:** _

_Say Cheese!_

 

* * *

 

 

**[[Third POV]]**

 

 

The class started out relatively normal. Normal meaning that the kids were loud, excited for the day, and an utter chaos in the room. A not-so-normal day would be if they were all calm, quiet, and willing to actually listen to John for once. They're six though, so you can't really ask anything of them without them somehow finding a way to twist your request in order to do exactly what they wanted, and not what you wanted, but still doing as you asked. 

Oh yes, they were secretly masterminds in little child bodies, just ready to attack when you least expect it. At least, that's what Mike Stamford says (on the day this was said Mike was previously attacked by a rabid five year old in the hallway). So, class started out loud, all the kids were preoccupied with one of the tasks that John had put up on the board for them to choose form. Which included painting, drawing, building with legos, writing whatever, macaroni art, and the famous building blocks of foam. 

John can't even  _look_ at the little medieval toy figures without thinking about the incident that happened the other day. He really didn't like the outcome of it. Which was the beginning of the rivalry between Sherlock and Jim. The two boys were always at each other's throats, sometimes metaphorically, other times in the literal sense. That's when John had to break it up, only to have his arms tugged on from both sides causing him to lose any sort of feeling he had in them. So, most of the time he just got a student to break it up, promising a cookie to them if they did agree to it.

The teacher was seated in one of the mini plastic chairs at the tiny little tables for the students. He sat next to Roger who was currently reciting some type of poem about... Ninja Turtles? John may have blanked out-

**FLASH**

****

Roger cries out in surprise, while John only blinks from the moment. A bright light blinding both student and teacher for a couple of seconds. John blinks rapidly to chase the spots away. Once his vision was clear, he took a glance to where the light was from. Oh, there stood Sherlock Holmes. A large, very expensive looking camera in his tiny little hands.

**FLASH**

**CLICK**

Another light blinded the blond for a couple seconds. As his eyes begin to focus once again, another flash hits him.

"Sherlock!"

The teacher rubs his eyes, staring at the five year old with a cold gaze, trying to show him that, _no, I don't appreciate being blinded every five seconds_. Another shutter from the camera, but no blinding lights this time. He sighs in relief before glaring at Sherlock once again.

"Sherlock, why on earth do you have a camera in class?"

"Because I have no pictures of my wife, which is a crime in itself, so fatman let me bring it to class. Say cheese!"

**FLASH**

****

 

There's the blasted light again. The spots aren't really going away anymore, which is really worrisome, but the only way to really get them to go away and _stay away_ was for Sherlock to put the bloody camera away and stop blinding everyone.

Sherlock hums in front of him, his focus on the camera screen. "You have very pretty eyes, John. Especially when you're angry."

"Sherlock, it's Mr. Watson. How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

But just like all the other times, Sherlock only ignores him, choosing to continue with the First Name Basis that makes him sound more adult-ish than he already is. Which is really unnerving for a five year old. Even if he manages wears a suit everyday to school. 

As Sherlock is distracted, John pushes himself off the chair and marches over to him, snatching the camera right out of the lad's hands. He huffs and holds it high into the air so Sherlock can't jump up and take it again.

"No. If you're going to keep on blinding people then I will keep the camera until the end of the day. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Holmes?" John stares down at him, glaring into his eyes to give off his point.

Sherlock crosses his arms with a 'hmph' and nods, a pout on his lips. "Yes, I understand."

"Good. Now go... Draw something, I'm going to hold on to this for a while."

The student opens his mouth to interject, "Wait-", but he is quickly shot down by John.

"No, no but's, go and draw." Sherlock complies, sulking away to do as told. At least, that's what it looks like from behind. Because honestly, John's afraid that he's really smirking, an evil and genius plan already forming in his head to get the camera and revenge on John.

Which is a scary thought. The last time Sherlock got revenge on anyone, the poor student couldn't very well taste right for a week or two. John needs his tasting ability, what would he do without the bitter taste of his tea at 2 am in the morning? He'd probably be tired, snappy, and even ruder than he is now.

Actually, it doesn't seem that off as to how he is now.

Oh well.

 

_____________________________________

 

It's two hours before school ends. The camera is carefully stashed away in a locked drawer in his desk. He's actually surprised that Sherlock hasn't somehow gotten it back yet. As of right now, John is loitering around the classroom, making sure that students are actually doing something and now just sitting there staring off into space of eating their own boogers. Which is a very disgusting, but sadly true thing. After his second round across the whole classroom, he heads back to the chalkboard to add one more task for the students to do.

He scribbles it down at the bottom of the list, puts the chalk down, swirls around, pats his hands off on his green apron. Then he catches it. Right there, is Sherlock. The camera in his hands, a wide and very smug smirk on his stupid little face. _The twat actually got it_.

And now John is racing towards Sherlock before he can be blinded once again. Sherlock smiles, turns his back to John, leans back, and quickly snaps a photo.

**FLASH**

****

 

* * *

 

 

"And that's how Sherlock got 10 timeouts this week," 

"Don't you think 10 is a bit overboard, John?"

"Greg, you don't know how it is to be blinded by a bloody bright light of pure and utter pain. You'd probably give him more detentions if you were in my spot!"

"Sure, Johnny, sure."

 


	5. Chaos and Jump Ropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day did not start out normal. At first. 
> 
> It was quiet, calm, and John really wishes that it could have stayed like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that the adults are like 10-20 years or so younger than in the show?? Yas, sorry. Uhh okay, continuing on.
> 
> Btw should I make a playlist for the story? I always have some kind of playlist for everything I read and write.
> 
> Anddd last note, this chapter is just really crack. Wrote during class since we were just rewatching White Fang again.

**_Chapter Four:_ **

_Chaos and Jump Ropes_

 

 

* * *

 

  **[[Third POV]]**

 

 

The day did not start out normally. It was calm, it was quiet, and Sherlock and Jim weren't glaring daggers at each other for once. Which is quite an amazing feat, considering the fact that they've hated each other for a month now. Maybe things are going to change.

And the whole 'silent and calm' thing with the class was very unnerving. It seems like a 'calm before the storm' sort of moment. Because his class is not calm. They're planning something evil. Something against John, he can just feel it. Feel the anticipation seep from every one of the tiny children.

Well, even if they were planning something, who said he couldn't admire the silence for once? So, that's what John did first. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let himself appreciate the first silence that his class has ever had. It was nice.

When he opened his eyes, chaos began. Children were bouncing off walls, tables, chairs. Foam blocks, legos, pencils, and any other type of object found in the room was thrown around. It was utter mayhem, and it was very much expected.

Although, many unexpected things happened in the mayhem. Like little Henry Knight jumping onto a table and stripping down to his pants. And Philip Anderson having the courage to kiss Sally Donavon's cheek. As well as Mike Stamford tied up in a mess of jump rope, in the corner of a room.

These things were not expected. John can only _begin_  to wonder how they got a large man down to his knees. "Mike?!" The teacher hollered across the room to his friend.

"John?! John, oh gods, help me! Five rabid six year olds attacked me in the hallway and dragged me in here!"

"How did they manage to tie you up?!"

"..." There was a pause as Mike flushed in embarrassment. "... Uhh, they held me at gunpoint...?"

"Gunpoint?! What-"

Mike sighs before clearing it up, "It was a water gun..."

John groans and rubs a hand over his face, giving the other male the most unamused look he could muster. "... A water gun?! You're kidding me right?"

"My trousers and pants chafe uncomfortably when they're wet!" The larger man whines.

"You weakling! You don't give in to the enemy!"

 

* * *

 

 

Mike sneers, eyeing the teacher next to him. "Who's a weakling now, John?"

John growls at him, struggling in his bonds, glaring at the children who brought him down. "Shut it. They ambushed me from behind! I fought! Unlike you, probably! Shite - oh, sorry - these jump ropes are very uncomfortable. I think they're leaving a rash."

Then a familiar mess of brown curls, as well as slicked back dark brown hair come into view. "John, shush, you two talk too much." Sherlock wags a finger in his face.

"Sherlock, Jim, if you two are behind this I swear- no more biscuits and stickers for the both of you!"

Sherlock scoffs, "We don't need your petty excuses-"

"No hugs for Sherlock, no apple cuts for Jim." John lets the smug grin crawl onto his face knowing that the two cannot go a day without these.

The two gasp, such a horrified look on both of their faces. "You cannot do that!"

"I can, and I very much will if you two don't let us go, and tell me what is happening!" John snaps, glaring at them both with such a cold stare.

Jim was the first to retaliate. "No!"

John frowns. "No?"

"No!"

This time Sherlock frowns. "What do you mean, Moriarty?"

"I mean, no. I finally captured my princess, I'm not going to let him go now!"

"Your princess?!" Sherlock glares down at the six year old, his hands clenched into tiny fists of anger.

"Oh no, boys, please-"

Sherlock shoves a finger to Jim's chest, pushing him backwards. "He is _my_ wife! Not _your_ princess!"

"I guess we were never meant to work together, then! You can keep thinking that John is your wife, but know that all you're doing is lying to yourself, Sherly!"

As the two fought once again, John and Mike watched from the sidelines. John was desperately trying to untie the knot that held all the ropes together. He growls in frustration, his head thrown back in defeat. "Screw it."

The two adults sat next to each other quietly, continuing to witness the mayhem and chaos that was happening around them.

Mike stares at the teacher, his lips set in a straight line. "John, why-"

"Shut it, Mike! Do not speak a word of this to anyone!"

"Can't promise there, friend."

"Stamford, I swear to god-"

Things really weren't going to change. Not really. Things just don't change that quickly. Which sucks. A lot.

 

* * *

 

The next day was also chaos. Every corner of the room was filled with at least six children. The whole class had a timeout. John had to make sure that none of the students were near their friends, which was pretty difficult seeing as these were little children, and little kids are great with becoming friends with others.

So yes, the day was very busy, very tiring, and John's back was hurting from bending over all the time trying to pick up stray pencils and legos. His arm was hurting too, since Sherlock and Jim kept literally jumping on him, choosing to hang off his arms. Why his arms? Why not his legs? Actually, why him in general? What did he ever do to catch the attention of two very strange children? Maybe he should have just joined the army like he originally planned.

Too late now.


	6. Bring the Apple Cuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Halloween, and there are little children running around.
> 
> They ran out of apple cuts, so Greg Lestrade swoops in to save the day. As well as tick off a certain five year old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughh just once I want to write an actual story with an actual plot  
> I mean don't get me wrong I love this fic, but it's all like snippets and stuff
> 
> One day i shall

**_Chapter Five:_ **

_Bring The Apple Cuts_

 

 

* * *

 

 

**[[Third POV]]**

 

 

The class was having a party today. To celebrate Halloween, actually. All the children had their costumes on, and some brought candy, biscuits, or some kind of healthy snack. Little paper bats hung from the ceiling, black and orange decorations were littered around the room. It was a cute setting, and all the students were _extremely_ excited today.

Sherlock wore an old fashioned detective outfit, Jim was a spider, Henry was a wolf, Sally was a witch, and Anderson (no one really calls him Philip, it sounds weird) was a wizard. There was also the occasional princess, ninja, super hero, as well as all the other classics. John himself was stereotypical soldier. He didn't have the plastic gun though, since this was still a school.

Some of the parents were hanging out in the corner of the classroom, sipping sodas, conversing, catching a glance at their child. It was a different schedule day today, but it was a whole lot calmer than it usually was.

It's been about 3 hours into school, most of the apple cuts are out and children (mostly Jim) have been complaining endlessly. So, in desperation, John text Greg and asks him to bring some. Luckily Greg was on vacation this week (waiting for actual halloween day so he can catch prankers and thieves) his friend gave him a yes to coming over, and a yes to the apple cuts.

Greg arrives about 30 minutes later, a box of apple cuts tucked under his arm. He arrived in a costume, surprisingly, and of course it matched John's. The teacher put on a grin and greeted his dear friend, leading him through the door.

"Hey there! Welcome to my kingdom of goblins!" The blond loops his arm with Greg's, bringing him further into the classroom. "I can't thank you enough for bringing the apples, mate. I would've had a riot on my hands, I swear."

Greg chuckles, unlooping his arm from John's and throwing it over his friend's shoulder, bringing him in close for a side hug. "Yeah, don't mention it! So, what's been happening with you?"

"This, that. It's almost Halloween, you know how it is. We'll both be busy. Which means..."

"Which means it's time for a night at the pub with each other as dates!" Greg finishes for him with a laugh, ruffling his hair in a rough manner.

"Hey, hey, hey! Quit it, Sherlock is going to see you!" John hisses, swatting at his friend's hands, trying to stop him.

"Oh?" Greg quirks a brow, a smirk playing on his lips. "What's he gonna do?"

Just as he finishes that sentence, a sharp pain blooms in his left leg. He yelps and glares down to where it came from. Of course, Sherlock stands there with a pen in his hand, his favorite pen that he writes, draws, and stabs with.

Sherlock glares right back, "Who are you?" He questions the Inspector.

"Greg Lestrade. And you are Sherlock Holmes, I'm guessing?"

Sherlock frowns, raising his arm for another pen stab. "Why are you here?"

"I was asked by John-" He gives John a fake kiss on the cheek. "-to bring some food."

John gapes at his friend, slapping him on the arm, "Greg! Stop it!" He whispers to him. "He's going to bite your head off if you don't stop!"

Of course, Sherlock did not literally bite Greg's head off, no, instead the five year old manages to jump and cling onto Greg's shoulders, scratching at his neck, pulling his hair, and screaming things that a five year old really shouldn't know or say.

"I told you! You are utterly mad! The both of you!" John yells at the two, trying to ply Sherlock off of the older male, as well as trying to stop Greg from saying anything too vain around the children.

Soon the parents catch sight of what's happening and run in to help. It takes about five adults + a promise of a kiss on the cheek from John to finally get Sherlock off of Greg. The brunet huffs, his hands squeezing John's arms as John held him. Which was difficult, since Sherlock is actually like half his size, and ugh, it's like carrying a squirming sack of potatoes.

"You, Greg Lestrade, are banished from this classroom!" Sherlock declares, pointing an accusing finger at the poor Inspector.

"Whoa, hey now," John frowns at the five year old. "One) Only I can banish people. And Two) He's my friend so, no, he cannot be banished. Sorry Sherlock."

Sherlock turns in his arms to stare at John with such a serious expression that it was so hard _not_ to laugh. "I am your husband-"

"I will put you back onto the ground, Mr. Holmes, if you do not listen to me."

"Yeah!" Greg yells from one of the corners, an ice pack being held to his neck. "Listen to Mr. Watson!"

"Shut it, Lestrade! You're also in the blame here!" John barks at him, throwing a deadly glare over his shoulder. "Now. Sherlock, Greg, you two have to make up. Say... Sorry, shake hands, I don't know, something."

The two hesitate, Sherlock crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Greg with such heated intensity it'd probably melt metal. Greg just sat there, glaring right back, his hand crushing the ice pack.

The teacher rolls his eyes, "Now!"

Greg sighs and hangs his head, "My apologies, Sherlock."

"Apology accepted." The student replies, a small smirk on his tiny smug face.

"Hey! You're suppose to apologize back!"

"Shush, Greg. It's as close as Sherlock will ever get. Good job you dips." John places a small kiss to Sherlock's hair, and then pats Greg's head. "Go eat some candy. Candy makes a lot of things better."


	7. The Hunger Games? [Pt. 1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of the kindergarten-wide Hunger Games, which is very odd to John. Because aren't the children six? Why are they doing this? Why do they know what this is?
> 
> He is not going to compete. No way. 
> 
> It's not an option, is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly really tired, and I don't know what I'm writing. I'm just waiting for my da to get here. Ugh, someone help me. 
> 
> Sorry for the long wait. And for the short and random/badly written chapter.

**_Chapter Six:_ **

_The Hunger Games?_

Part One 

 

* * *

 

 

**[[Third POV]]**

 

 

 

Today was the day that John was not looking forward to. It was the start of the Hunger Games for all kindergartners. Honestly, it was all very maddening. The Hunger Games? For 6 year olds? What has this world come to? It's insane, truly. There are no actual weapons for the children to use, but a pool noodle and foam sword can do just as much damage sometimes! 

What scared John the most was the fact that the teachers had to compete too. No, they weren't allowed to stay back and just watch, or sponsor the kids. They had to actually join in, and from what happened with the jump ropes and Mike Stamford, John was very much afraid. What if one of the kids grab him and hide him on the trees? What if they choked him with those deathly jump ropes? 

Oh, so many terrible outcomes- Wait! These are six year olds! Why is John, a soldier trainee, so terrified of these tiny children?... 

That was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever thought. You  _don't_ underestimate these children. Especially ones like Jim and Sherlock. Oh no, those two are probably the worst, and the scariest. They are honestly  _way too smart_ for their own bloody well being. Someone's going to knock 'em dead one day if they keep gloating about their superior intellects. Sometimes John himself wants to strangle the two because sometimes they just don't shut the hell up like they really should. 

And oh- they're participating in this stupid game. Which means that everyone, students and teachers included, may as well just drop dead because they've probably become allies and are probably coming up with some evil scheme to rid of all of tributes. Or maybe use this opportunity to 'steal' John away and hid him in a secret evil cave of some sort.

Because they'd seriously do that. It's a very high possibility that they'd do that.

So, here John stood, his hands by his side in fists as he watches the tiny children gather out in the big field behind the school. It was really unfortunate with using this field, because one) it's surrounded by a forest for kids to hide in, and two) the field in itself is clear and wide open, and the supplies are all gathered in the blasted middle, meaning that if a  child had a plastic bow and arrow, they could get you as you ran through the grass.

Which meant that, _screw the supplies and just_ book _it as fast as you can_.

The teacher stood on one of the square mats that was set out in a large circle around the cornucopia. The cornucopia was really a bunch of playing supplies set up on many crates. There were pool noodles, water guns, plastic bow and arrows, foam swords, those plastic dart guns (nerf guns are what they're called?), as well as other things but John couldn't see much from where he was. On one side of the cornucopia was where the teachers were set, on the other side stood the students.

The teachers around John (other than Molly and Mike) looked _way_ too at ease. They're probably going to die first. The kids... The kids were quite the sight. They looked _murderous_ , like they were ready to run to the middle and cause the bloodbath themselves.

Everything was now catching up to John. This was all so ridiculous and utterly insane! Six year olds! The Hunger Games?! The world will end in bloodshed when they take over, and by then John is really hoping he's way too old to be effected by it all. Or he's just dead by then. He honestly doesn't know what's worse.

Well, maybe living through the reign of this generation would be worse. It'd either end up in chaos and bloodshed, or it would all lead up to a perfect world. Perfection is very boring for someone who needs the thrill of danger.

John's focus slid back to what was taking place _now_. Because apparently, the games were starting in-

5...

...4

...3

...2

...1

John takes off. He spins on the the balls of his feet and books it right to the forest. Again, screw the supplies. Hide before one of the kids jump you and bite your shoulder like a wild animal. Which is likely to happen to him if he runs into one of the kids like Sally Donovan first. An event which he hopes and very much wishes to avoid with all of his might.

The teacher keeps running until he deems himself far enough away from everyone. He stood in silence until a _very loud_ conversation echoed around him.

"They're just children! Stop being afraid of them!"

"You don't know them! They're monsters! Children of the devil! You can deal with them by yourself, I'm not going to risk my life for a bloody game!"

The sound of leaves crunching faded off into the distance, same with a string of profanities. John had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop from laughing and giving himself away. Because _wow_ , it's hilarious when someone underestimates these kids.

They'll learn better when they become a victim. They will regret all those words.

Cue evil/mad laughter and the lightning with thunder in the background.

Wow, John must be really bored if he's creating 'movie' scenes in his head.

"Hi,"

The teacher jumps and twirls around, "Bloody [censor]!" He yells (it is ALMOST a scream) in fright, his heart beating like a war drum.

He looks down to see... An unknown student. An unarmed, unknown student. Still, his guard stays up around any child.

He clears his throat and raises hand to give a gentle wave. "Ah, sorry. Hello... You are?"

The little girl stares at him, then his hand, then back to him. "My names Irene."

"Irene... Irene Adler? You're in Ms. Hooper's class aren't you?"

"Molly? Yes. Have you seen her? I lost her."

Another 'by-the-first-name' child.

His eyebrow twitches as he forces a smile. "No, sadly I have not seen Ms. Hooper. Why?"

She huffs and crosses her arms, a tiny scowl present on her face. "I don't like losing what's mine."

Jesus, is this another crazy obsessed child? How come he's never known that Molly had one too? They could've bonded over this.

"Ah- Uh- Maybe she's further in the woods...?"

Irene narrows her eyes at him and turns around to look into the deeper part of the woods. "Hm..." She nods and marches forward, leaving a very confused John behind.

"Oh poor Molly," He sighs and rubs his neck, watching Irene head further in.

"John!"

He spins around one more time to see a familiar pony tail swaying as a figure runs towards him.

"Molly?"

"John! John, run!"

And he does, because when someone says to run, that means there's trouble and you should really run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg wtf, thanks for 150 kudos and a lot of bookmarks, comments, and views, guys! You all are crazy.
> 
> Much thaanks.


	8. John and Mycroft's Meet-Ups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Mycroft have weekly meet-ups. Go get some tea, talk about Sherlock, leave.
> 
> Simple and quick.
> 
> But not this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so very sorry for such a late and short chapter update!
> 
> I feel terrible. I'm on vacation at the moment, and after that I'll be in the process of moving. Very busy summer. 
> 
> Alright enjoy this short, badly written chapter. 
> 
> Not beta'd, sorry. Also, the second part of the hunger games is on my computer and I do not have that at the moment. Only my phone.

_**Chapter Seven:** _

_Extra One:_

_John and Mycroft's Meet-Ups_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**[[Third POV]]**

 

 

The first time John met Mycroft Holmes was two weeks before Sherlock had joined his class. John's first impression of Mycroft was not the best. If you asked Greg Lestrade he would probably grab the two nearest items and hold them in front of you. Then the detective would play it out for you. At the end of the reenactment he has the two items clash against each other violently as he makes sound effects.

So if you are judging the relationship between Mycroft Holmes and John Watson using Lestrade's little show, then you'd think they're not very friendly to each other. That is not _that_ true. In fact, they meet up every other week for some tea and a chat.

A chat over Sherlock. Oh, no, this does not mean that they're actual friends. They aren't even that friendly or talkative to each other when they have their weekly meets. John reports Sherlock's behavior and actions, Mycroft files them down. They sip their tea, then they're gone. No hello's in the beginning no goodbye's in the end.

It is all practical business and nothing ever really happens during their meet-ups.

_Until now._

 

* * *

 

 

John winces as he slowly takes his seat. This time they're outside, and his tea already seems to be ordered. He nods his appreciation --not really appreciation, more like acknowledgment, what if John wanted something different for a change-- and sips it tentatively with a slight grimace present. He never really enjoyed their weekly fill in's and he probably never will. The teacher begins to wonder what Mycroft thinks of it all.

"Sherlock managed to cut off a piece of Sally Donovan's hair on Monday," is the first thing that John says aloud. The second thing involves Sherlock's incident with the melted rubber stuck to the wall. Then the rest were mumbles on how he managed to melt the rubber in the first place, and how he managed to snip off Sally's hair when John made sure none of the necessary supplies were near him.

Sherlock, it appears, was just able to do improbable things. Which causes more headaches for John quite honestly. And more money from Mycroft to the school and to the poor victim. John has his share of pounds from a failed surprise gift from the five year old. Glass figurines will never be the same to the teacher.

So, after John finishes with his weekly reports they sit in silence. Awkward silence that they both feel rather uncomfortable sitting through, but they also both agreed it'd be rather impolite to leave perfectly good tea unfinished. They drink the tea as fast as they can to get it over with.

And then John starts _choking_ on the blasted tea.

Many things happen as the teacher goes into a coughing fit. Mycroft is utterly confused on what to do next, should he help or watch? Another thing is a panic from their server who is smacking the poor blond's back as hard as she can. The last thing is Greg and Sherlock jumping out of the nearest bush and ambushing Mycroft.

"I knew it! Fatman poisoned John! We should have acted sooner!" Sherlock is screaming while he claws at his brother's pristine suit.

Mycroft is rolling his eyes, pushing his hand to the five year old's face, "Don't be so daft, Sherlock. John is choking on his own unaffected tea, I rarely had anything to do with this."

"Well why aren't you helping him at least?!" Lestrade is shouting as he tries to help John get his breath back.

Now, John isn't all too worried about the choking. He already spit up the excess tea a bit ago, but now he just wants to see what's happening. And why the bloody hell Sherlock and Greg are here.

Were they spying on them this whole time? Because if they were John's going to need to have a talk with the both of them.

Because you see, spying on John's personal life just won't do in his books.

 

* * *

 

 

Greg is taking it like the inner soldier that he is. The tears of shame are hidden deep within him as his best friend continues the scold as if Greg were an actual four year old. Which really hurts because he is a Detective Inspector of the New Scotland Yard and he does not need to take a yelling from a kindergarten teacher!

"You are a grown adult, Greg. You can not go spying on people's lives! That just won't do. I know you're the DI but this is not part of your job. You better swear to me that you will not pull this insane shite again,"

He really doesn't want to give in. He can't. He must not give in. Especially not to a small blond man who's five inches shorter than him and wears _jumpers_ for christs sake-

A hand grips the front of Lestrade's shirt and he finds himself face to face with said blond man. "You better swear it!"

"I swear! I will not invade your privacy again!" The hand let's go and he sways backwards.

"Good."

Greg feels his cheek being pat, but he isn't really paying attention anymore. Because, god dammit, he gave in.

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock is clenching his tiny fists by his side, his back stiff as he takes the scolding. It's not as loud or forceful as Greg's, but it feels just as cruel. The teacher is crouched in front of him, a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Sherlock, you need to understand that calling people fat is not nice. Neither is stalking people and invading their private lives. Do you understand this?"

There are no tears. He will not let them fall. He will be strong, he will be stoic, Sherlock shall be the hard shelled person he is going to grow up to be.

"Do you understand this, yes or no? No means I shall withdraw your daily hugs."

And the five year old cracks.

He's nodding his head in understanding as silent tears roll down his face. Because that really was not fair, John was cruel to use that against him. No hugs would be a world of cold and pain.

"I understand," Sherlock huffs out between sniffles.

And there's John, bringing the child in for a hug and petting his hair. "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help me. I just want my computer back.


	9. The Hunger Games? [Part Two]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is no longer the Hunger Games. It is war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hillo! Late, short, just got my computer back. 
> 
> I'm making a little ask blog for my babby Sherls.  
> So if you want to ask him questions, go to Ask-BabbyDetective on Tumblr.

**_Chapter Eight:_ **

_The Hunger Games [Part Two]_

_This Is War_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

John sprinted through the forest, zigzagging through the trees. He huffs out in exhaustion as he keeps going. Honestly, John really needs to exercise more. He looks behind him to see if Molly was heading his way. Indeed she was-  
  
"Oh, shite!" John ducks his head as a plastic arrow zips past him, almost hitting the top of his head. He leans forward and runs faster as the sounds of smaller feet get louder and closer.  
  
No, John can't get out now! He will not be taken down. He will never give in to the enemy! He is John Hamish Watson and he is a survivor! With those very encouraging words playing in his mind, John paces himself to go as fast as he could. The teacher throws himself at a tree, and with all his army training (that he has but never really took up into the army for some reason) he pushes himself upwards.  
  
He honestly felt like a monkey at how fast he climbed, it was a miracle really. He wasn't as young as he use to be, and the running should have tired him out more than it did already. Maybe the thought of being caught by the children (oh what if Sherlock or Jim were in charge?) were his motivation?  
  
Oh yes, probably. Because it was a terrifying thought. Being caught by insane little goblins who can make a murder look like an accident. Who can manipulate anyone with their big puppy dog eyes and innocent, naive look. None of them can fool John Watson! They're all evil, every last one of them and they are not to be trusted.  
  
At least, that's what John thinks.  
  
So, here the teacher is. Sitting on the sturdiest branch of the tree he was currently hiding in. A loud and ear piercing wail erupts from underneath his cover making his attention snap to the base of the tree. There was Molly, surrounded by at least six children all armed with bow 'n' arrows and foam axes.  
  
Should John be a hero and swoop down to save her? Or should he play it safe and hide it out-  
  
Then the jump ropes were pulled out and he dropped all of his thoughts of being any sort of help. The jump ropes were his weakness, the blasted ropes of doom could probably choke and trap anything. From a tiny dog, to a full grown human, to maybe even the black shuck*! And wouldn't that be a catch?  
  
[ *The black shuck is a 'fairy tale' monster. Resembling a very large, very rouge wolf with glowing red eyes. Heeya, it's my favorite of all the mythical creatures. ]

Getting back onto the action that's going on under the tree; John watches as Molly is tripped, tied up, and dragged away in the jump ropes. Another victim to the cursed six year olds and their doomed ropes. How many have they caught? How many teachers are gone? How many children have been betrayed? Oh the thoughts that ran through John's mind were... Not very important. Not really, not unless he wanted to be distracted by his own stupid mind.

Oh no. Oh no, oh gods he has to sneeze. Why now? Why here? Why couldn't it wait? What was that trick again? The teacher inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose as he feels the sneeze tickle its way out. He holds his breathe, praying to god that it stops the sneeze in time...

He waits... And the itch goes down, as well as the urge to sneeze. Oh thank god, he can still survive. Hopefully. John shifts his position on the branch, trying to correct his footing so he doesn't heck up and fall to his ultimate doom. The sound of a string snapping hits him. He freezes and looks down. They see him.

The children see him, they're aiming their little arrows at him and he can't escape. Shite.

John begins to panic, this isn't how he wanted to go down. Stuck in a tree, surrounded by children with bow and arrows, and jump ropes. This has to be the worst and most embarrassing nightmare that could've ever happened to him. The teacher glances around for a miracle escape route. Any route, whether it be by jumping into another tree, by throwing pine cones at the children to distract them, anything! But, no, there are no trees near him to leap to, there are no pine cones close enough for him to grab. He's in deep shite now.

"Mr. Watson!" He hears his name echoed to him.

He looks around. That wasn't the voice of a child.

"John!"

Who? Who was it?

And then the miracle happens. Spurts of water come from every direction, all aimed at the group of children below him. He can hear their shouts and whines. He takes this opportunity to climb down and dodge the group as they're attacked. As his feet touches the ground he hears tiny and high pitched war cry near him and soon jump rope is thrown across his body and in front of his feet. The teacher falls face flat against the dirt with some managing to get in his mouth. He splutters and coughs trying to get the dirt out, and soon the ropes tighten around his body pushing the air out of his lungs.

"Christ! Keep tightening and I'll pass out!" He wheezes to his captor as he kicks his legs out trying to get in contact with anything, anyone.

"We're trying to save you, Mr. Watson!"

John huffs and turns his head to see who exactly captured him. It was Sally Donovan, Philip Anderson, with... Mike Stamford by their sides?

"Mikes? For christ's sake what is this-"

"Shhh! We're trying to save you! From Sherlock!" Sally whispers to him.

"And Jim!" Anderson adds.

He scowls and drops his head against the dirt, sighing in defeat. "Sherlock and Jim? Are they working together?"

"No, which is worse if we're being completely honest."

John just nods, his arms starting to feel like jello the longer he's tied up. "It is worse, but the question is... Why do I have to be tied up?"

Mike shrugs, "To blend in." He answers.

"... Blend... In?"

"So it looks like we're taking you to Sherlock!" Chimes in Sally.

"Or Jim!" Adds Anderson. And now it makes somewhat sense so John just nods in understanding as he's picked up by Mike to be carried to where ever they're heading to.

"Do you know how many people have been taken down?"

"Not sure anymore, mate. This is no longer the Hunger Games. It's a war zone." Mike whispers with dread. 

And gods is he right. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sherlock huffs, crossing his arms in irritation as he eyes his scouts. "Has no one captured him yet?" 

"N-No, the last we've seen of Mr. Watson is him in jump ropes. Not our jump ropes." 

Fury flashes across Sherlock's face. He purses his lips and closes his eyes to think. 

And. Oh.

"Moriarty!" Sherlock jumps up from where he sat and throws his hands in the air dramatically, "Curse you Moriarty!" 

The scout shuffles awkwardly. She's only six and a half, he shouldn't have to deal with this. She just sighs inwardly and nods to Sherlock, "We'll do our best to get him back,"

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 Jim throws the crayon that was in his hand a minute ago, at the wall. He shrieks with rage. "How did you lose him?!" 

The poor scout quivers in his spot, taking a step away from their enraged leader. "He- A group of other scouts came in! They had water guns and they took him!" 

Jim pouts, leaning back in his seat. He stares at the scout, eyes narrowed and menacing, even for a six year old. "Sherlock. This is the doing of a Holmes."

"Ah, what are... We going to do now?" 

"It's time to plan our attack."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

> Quick note, if you didn't read the A/N up top, then I just want to put this down here. 
> 
> I've made a little ask blog for babby Sherls, and here's the blog: [Ask-BabbyDetective](http://ask-babbydetective.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Here's the first drawings: 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  


End file.
